


Shore Leave

by chellerrific



Category: Mass Effect, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4581753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chellerrific/pseuds/chellerrific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa survives a battle that leaves the rest of her squad dead, but she’s not out of the woods yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shore Leave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [secondstringer (remembertohope)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=secondstringer+%28remembertohope%29).



The first thing Lexa was aware of was the intense stinging. It was strong enough to jolt her awake, but she’d experienced far worse pain in her life, and something about this particular pain was familiar, comforting even.

Within seconds, the sensation of cool waves washed over her, and she felt the muscles in her body relax. Medi-gel. Someone was healing her.

With some difficulty, she pried her eyes open and blinked at her surroundings. Bookshelves lined the walls, crammed so full of books that some had spilled onto the floor. She was on a bed, recognizable as much softer than anything Alliance regulation had to offer even before she picked out the pleasant leafy green pattern embroidered on the comforter. This was definitely not a military hospital. It was somebody’s house.

“Good morning, Commander Shepard.” There was the sound of water spilling into a basin. “I’d apologize for the sting, but I’m sure you’re used to it.”

The speaker turned around, revealing the face of someone Lexa guessed was close to her in age. Her savior was fair, her blond braid draped over one shoulder beside a face framed by lose curls. She had blue eyes, a pert nose, and a strong chin with a hint of a cleft in it. Lexa’s eyes traveled down the woman’s neck, where they came to rest on a scar that could only have been made by the edge of a blade.

“Where is the rest of my squad?” Lexa asked.

The woman’s face fell visibly. “You were the only survivor.”

Lexa’s own expression remained carefully blank, but the words were like a blow to her gut. She swallowed and looked away. _Gustus, Anya, your fight is over._

“I’m sorry,” the woman went on when Lexa didn’t respond aloud. “They were already dead by the time I reached you. You nearly ended up the same way.” She gave Lexa a smile, small, gentle, encouraging.

Lexa swallowed again, her eyes moving from the woman’s smile to her scar and back down to the leaves on the bedspread. “You called me ‘Commander.’ Have we met before?”

The woman turned back to the basin to wring out a washcloth, which she then carefully folded and laid on Lexa’s forehead. “Everybody knows Commander Shepard, the first human ever to join the Spectres. You’re as much of a celebrity as you are a hero.”

“And you? What outfit did you serve with?”

The woman smiled again. “What makes you think I’m military?”

“A guess.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint you, Commander, but I’m just a civilian doctor. My name is Clarke Griffin. It’s an honor to meet you.”

There was a soft knock on the door before it was opened and a head was cautiously poked in. “Clarke?”

“Come on in, Wells.” Clarke turned back to Lexa. “This is Wells Jaha.”

“Is he a biotic, like you?” Lexa asked.

“The commander is very astute,” Clarke said to Wells as he arranged the supplies he’d brought with him on the small bedside table. “Yes, Wells and I are both biotics.”

Lexa watched Wells’s hands as he worked. One of them only had two fingers.

“How did you know?” Wells asked, a little self-consciously.

“I’m alive,” Lexa said bluntly. “I remember enough of what happened before I lost consciousness to know how unlikely my survival was.”

“It’s true,” Clarke admitted. “Your wounds were unlike anything I’ve ever seen. And, strangely, the only bodies we found were those of your squadmates. At first glance, Wells thought maybe the three of you had fought amongst yourselves.”

Wells knocked over the small datapad propped on the bedside table. “Clarke!” he hissed.

“But,” Clarke went on, ignoring him, “neither biotics nor any of the weapons you had could have done this damage. Commander… what happened out there?”

“It’s classified,” Lexa said.

Wells looked like he wanted to protest, but Clarke said, “Fair enough. Anyway, I’m afraid your comms were damaged in the fight. I’ve given them to a friend of mine to repair. Don’t worry, he’ll have them fixed up before you are.”

“Those are military-issue,” Lexa said. “Civilians shouldn’t know how to repair them.”

Wells and Clarke exchanged glances and laughed.

Lexa frowned. “What?”

“That’s not going to be a problem for our friend, Commander,” Wells said. “Your only concern right now should be your recovery.”

Lexa disliked being given orders, she didn’t trust strangers, and she needed to get in touch with her ship to let them know what had happened, but she knew the truth of Wells’ words. The mere act of moving her head left her dizzy and nauseated. She was in no condition to do anything but rest. Once she was strong enough to move, she would find a way to contact her crew.

And so, she didn’t protest when Wells injected something into her arm, and didn’t fight when the drugs took effect, dragging her down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

When Lexa next awoke, she was alone. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she felt like a new woman. She had to admit, Clarke and Wells were clearly as good at healing as Dr. Nyko.

With great care, she sat up and slid her legs over the side of the bed to the ground. She was sore all over, her muscles achy and weak from injury and lack of use. When she put weight on her legs, though, they held, and she was able to stand.

She grabbed the closest bookshelf to steady herself as a wave of light-headedness caused her vision to briefly go black and starry. It passed as quickly as it had come, and after a moment of slow, steady breathing, she took a step.

She took another step, and another, and soon she was at the door. She opened it onto an empty hallway. The house was dead quiet.

The low, segmented, leather couch in the living room was made up as a bed that had recently been slept in. Lexa realized only then that the room she had been occupying was not a guest room.

She padded through the kitchen, but it too was deserted. She considered calling out, but she knew Clarke and Wells would only send her straight back to bed. She was hungry, which was a good sign, and her gaze drifted longingly around the kitchen before it fell on an open back door.

The salty sea breeze blowing in was cool and damp. Lexa walked to it absently, taking a good look out the windows for the first time as she went.

Virmire was beautiful. Now, in the quiet afternoon, without the din of battle and blood and pain around her, she could finally appreciate that. The sound of the waves was soothing, almost hypnotic, and she drifted out through the doors and onto the deck to get a better look.

Clarke was sitting by the railing, her bare legs draped over the side and her hands clasped around a mug of something liquid and steamy. She looked up as Lexa stopped beside her, but instead of ordering Lexa back to bed, she smiled and said, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Lexa said. “And ready to leave.”

Clarke’s expression barely changed, but the smile was somehow less tender. “I know I can’t stop you if you’ve made up your mind.”

Lexa nodded once. She hesitated, then sat down next to Clarke. “I know I’m not well enough to return to active duty, but I need to get back to my crew. I need to tell them what happened to Anya and Gustus and let them know that I am fine.”

Clarke nodded herself, gazing out over the sea. “It’s hard to believe Virmire could soon become like Eden Prime.”

Lexa looked at her sharply. That turned out to be a mistake, but she hid the sharp jab of pain and dizziness behind only the smallest wince.

Clarke looked back at her, smiling again. “What? We know about Eden Prime, Commander. And anybody who saw where you and your people fought could put two and two together.”

“I know you were lying about not being military.”

Clarke continued to smile. “All right. What gave me away?”

“I already suspected you were before you demonstrated your impressive knowledge of weapons damage, the kind of knowledge you generally only see in combat medics who see those wounds for themselves on a regular basis,” Lexa explained. “The fact that you and your friend are L2s makes it even harder to believe your denials.”

There was a pause, and then a look of understanding dawned on Clarke’s face. “Wells’ hand.”

“You were on Jump Zero, weren’t you?”

“Wells lost the fingers as punishment for using his hand instead of his powers,” Clarke explained.

“You’re lucky the two of you survived the implants.”

Clarke’s expression was decidedly ironic. “That’s what they tell us. So lucky. Well, all right. I admit it. Wells and I are former Alliance. Wells isn’t a fighter, though, not really, and I was sick of the circus.” She met Lexa’s eyes. “No offense, Commander.”

Lexa didn’t answer. She found her gaze drifting from Clarke’s eyes to her lips and then to that scar on her neck again. “How did you get that?”

“You aren’t the only one who nearly died on a mission.” Clarke’s voice was husky and soft, barely above a whisper.

Lexa looked away from the scar and back into Clarke’s eyes. “You were right. The fight wasn’t with biotics or any kind of human weaponry. It was the Reapers.”

“What? I thought they were just a myth.”

“They’re not. I can assure you. Anya and Gustus could assure you as well, if they weren’t dead.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—never mind. Why are you telling me this?”

Lexa shook her head. “You shared with me. Fair is fair.”

Before Clarke could respond again, Lexa got to her feet. “Don’t worry, Clarke. I don’t intend to let the Reapers turn Virmire—or anywhere else—into another Eden Prime. You understand now why it’s important for me to return to my ship as soon as I can, I trust?”

* * *

Lexa could barely believe it, but Wells and Clarke’s faith in their tech friend Monty turned out not to be misplaced. By the time Lexa sat down to eat the light dinner she and Clarke had negotiated, Wells returned with Monty in tow, and Monty was holding her repaired comm.

Within seconds of establishing a connection with a ship and identifying herself, she found herself on the receiving end of a tongue lashing from Indra.

Clarke, Wells, and Monty were all trying not to laugh. Only Wells was succeeding.

There was a scuffle on the other end, and then a different voice came over the connection. “Commander?”

“Lincoln,” Lexa said, not bothering to hide her relief. “Tell Indra I will have Dr. Nyko sedate her if she cannot control herself.”

“With all due respect, Commander, I’d rather not be the messenger in this case,” Lincoln said. “Listen, you were presumed dead along with Anya and Gustus. We were recalled to the Citadel pending an investigation.”

Lexa rolled her eyes. Typical. “Well, I’m not dead.”

“And we couldn’t be happier,” Lincoln assured her. “But we’ll have to be cleared by the Council before we can come get you.”

Lexa bit back a growl. They had lost enough time already. The Reapers weren’t going to sit around and wait for the paperwork to clear.

“Why don’t you take a shuttle to the Citadel yourself?” Wells suggested.

Lexa and, to her surprise, Monty both scoffed audibly.

“If the point is to save time, it would be faster to walk,” Monty said.

“It’s true. But my crew can’t defy the Council either. I don’t really have a choice,” Lexa admitted, barely containing her frustration.

A hand landed on her shoulder. Clarke leaned over her to speak directly into the comm. “Hello, this is Dr. Clarke Griffin. I’m supervising Commander Shepard’s recovery. We’ll take good care of her here while you go through whatever channels you need to, but fair warning, I’m pretty sure if you take too long even I’m not going to be able to stop her from walking.”

“You already saved the Commander’s life, Dr. Griffin,” Lincoln said. “We can’t expect miracles on top of that.”

“Very funny,” Lexa said. “Just get here as fast as you can. Shepard out.”

* * *

Days passed. Under Clarke and Wells’ care, Lexa recovered rapidly. She still wasn’t in peak condition, but given the state she’d been in after the fight, that was hardly surprising.

Finally the ship arrived to retrieve her. The wait had seemed interminable, but now that it was over, Lexa felt strangely hesitant.

Wells and Dr. Nyko were deep in serious discussion, probably about the state of her care. Monty immediately struck up a conversation with Lincoln and Indra about the tech aboard the ship. Lexa was hardly a gearhead, but even she knew how impressive it was. For her part, Indra looked like she was about to knock Monty unconscious to shut him up. Lexa probably should have intervened, but Lincoln was there, and she knew he would stop Indra from doing any serious damage. Lexa had something else to do before they left.

She found Clarke on the deck out back. A sketchpad was lying in her lap, and she was drawing on it with quick but careful strokes. Lexa knew right away what the picture was.

“I hope you got my good side.”

Clarke didn’t pause. “Are you saying you have a bad side, Commander?”

“Clarke.”

The seriousness in Lexa’s voice was enough to get Clarke’s full attention that time. She set aside the sketchpad and stood up. “What’s wrong?”

Lexa shook her head. “I’m leaving. With my crew.”

“Yeah. I saw them. I hate goodbyes.”

“Clarke.” Lexa searched Clarke’s eyes, and she was not at all surprised to find some of her own conviction reflected back at her. Without hesitating any further, she cupped Clarke’s chin in her hand and kissed her firmly on the mouth.

Clarke responded instantly, opening her lips to let Lexa in. It was gentle but hungry and Lexa was reluctant to end it. Still, even if their kiss only lasted a moment, she would feel it for long after.

“This isn’t goodbye,” she said, resting her forehead against Clarke’s. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Lexa,” Clarke whispered.

“Thank you, Clarke. May we meet again.”

Lexa tried not to look back, but as the ship powered up, she found herself gazing out the window. Clarke was there, looking back, her lips still a soft cherry red as she smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> I read that Virmire was originally intended to be a resort colony, so I decided to go with that in this AU. Also while the 100!Reapers are more like the Geth than anything, I wasn’t going to pass the opportunity up.


End file.
